Keep Up
by callmeakumatized
Summary: "Depends on what, Ladybug?" he asked, trying not to sound as suddenly breathless as he really felt. Her eyes seemed to shine in the little moonlight they had. She smiled wryly at him and Adrien's heart beat a little faster, and it had nothing to do with their increase of speed. "Depends if you can keep up, Chat Noir." [Romance/Extreme Sports/One-Shot]


[[ This is a revamped version of one of my pieces for my "One-Shot Wednesdays" I was doing. So if it looks familiar…THANK YOU FOR READING IT AGAIN. (Although it was only like…5 paragraphs before.) :3 ]]

Marinette pulled the red lipstick across her lips, checking the reflection in the mirror to make sure none of the ruby color had missed its mark. She replaced the cap and stuck the tube into the secret pocket on her full-ish skirt before buttoning the pocket closed. With a last hand-crimp of her messy pigtails, Marinette decided she was finally ready. Well…almost. Listening carefully down the dark hallway of her home for any movement from her sleeping parents, Marinette pulled out the last accessory to her outfit: a chiffon-like scarf. She pulled the scarf up and over her eyes, positioning it precisely to make sure her blue eyes could see out of the cut-outs she had sewn in. It was soft against her skin, the fabric light and airy; during the day, the transparency would render it completely for its purpose. At night, though, it was perfect.

Marinette cinched the scarf into a tight knot, then attached clips into her midnight-blue hair to assure the mask held. After a deep breath (and one last kiss and wink to her reflection), she was ready.

The door creaked open under her touch, and Marinette rolled out as stealthily as possible, blowing a kiss to her sleeping parents. The door shut, and the lock clicked. Marinette exhaled deeply; she was free.

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The cheap backyard party torches were only for effect; the mechanic's flood lights would have worked just fine for lighting up the makeshift arena. Adrien, however, liked the addition of the flickering light as opposed to the gaudy LEDs that usually lit up the courses he raced on. They made the shadows dance, faces glow, and the track really come alive.

It had taken all of a week for Adrien to search out an underground sports "club" in Paris, where his father was forcing them to move. Not that he had any complaints about Paris in particular – the city was a natural hub of activity, a living, breathing thing of beauty in its own right – but having some sort of _out_ was a necessity in his life. He had been rather attached to his old hub and hoped to find some semblance of "home away from home" in this new adventure.

"Duuuuuuudes!" the host roared out through his microphone. The hobo-looking, scruffy-haired millennial shot the crowd a winning smile, and the crowd roared with him. "I don't think I've seen a wipeout _that_ bad since, well, _ever_!"

Adrien chuckled to himself. He knew this guy, Jules, had been introduced to him shortly, and was impressed with his linguistic skills. That is, that he was actually fluent in several languages but chose, for the sole purpose of being personable to the crowd, to lose all pretense of education in favor of winning over the masses.

Adrien chewed on the toothpick in his mouth and surveyed the course through the lambent lighting. The last guy had wipeout on a nail sticking out of one of the boards on a nearby ramp. He had spotted it, had accepted it as part of the track, and committed the flaw to memory. This guy, on the other hand, had _not._ It looked like a broken wrist from what Adrien could see. The dude had landed on it pretty hard.

Jules led the crowd through a short bout of laughter after feigning his own injury. It was mercy for the other guy; all eyes were on the host while Broken Wrist escaped with his skateboard into the crowd.

Looking over the track again, Adrien started absentmindedly tugging on his bandana-made-mask around his eyes. Not that anyone where he lived or who he knew would even suspect that he would be here – or, possibly, even _care_ – but it helped displace some of the nerves attached to running out to play in the underground when he should be home, sleeping, _preening_. And coming into a new place with next to _no_ street cred, well…he did _not_ want his first impression in Paris to be the lame dude who had to go home on the ambulance.

With a shake of his head that followed through to each limb, Adrien tried settling his nerves. He only jumped a little when one of the cheap floodlights suddenly shown on him.

"…and now the mysterious _Chat Noir!_ "

Adrien raised a lose peace sign in the air, eyes still on the course ahead instead of on the cheering crowd. When the twin airhorns blared (how is this place still a secret?), he threw his skateboard down. It landed upside down and bounced once, twisting in the air. He leapt simultaneously, landing his feet in perfect position as all four wheels smacked into the broken concrete.

He was off.

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There was something about this new contender that made Marinette's breath catch in her throat in an almost painful way. She had been following this group for years – practically grown up here, being a regular for the better part of the last five years – but had never seen this blond skater. He was being "mysterious", sure, but it struck her that, maybe like her, he was using the disguise because he truly had something to hide – or hide from – rather than using the mask as some sort of intimidation tactic. His golden hair seemed to have been sprayed with a temporary black dye (she hoped it was temporary…those golden locks were gorgeous), a dirty mess that was splayed above a black and green bandana. The bandana had holes cut out for eyes, and, though Marinette tried, she couldn't tell exactly what color peeked through the folds of fabric.

One thing that she couldn't deny had caught her immediate attention was his clothing. Marinette, being something of an amateur designer herself, recognized the ripped black t-shirt for what it was: a _Gabriel_ original. How this boy had gotten his hands on something so _expensive_ just to rip holes in it was more mysterious to Marinette than who he was behind the mask. Though, she thought again, perhaps those topics were related.

Beneath the huge though precisely placed four tears in the black shirt she knew had once been emblazoned with a huge letter "G", a neon green shirt seemed to shine through. It wasn't a gaudy color – not fluorescent or anything, just bright, like grass, like a jelly bean. It matched the bandana and, she noted when he faultlessly landed a crowd-pleasing "bigspin", the giant pawprint on the beat-up deck of his skateboard.

The hottest thing he wore? The ripped-to-near-shreds black skinny jeans that seemed to be _made_ for him.

The cutest thing he wore? A headband with floppy cat ears on the sides.

It would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on him…it worked.

And that outfit was working for Marinette.

As he finished his run-through, the crowd was cheering, but Marinette's breath had caught in her throat again at the sight of him so up close. There was only one thought passing through her mind, and it fit both his abilities and…well…everything else about him: _flawless._

She didn't mean to ogle, really, but she was stationed at the front (being short, even while in rollerblades, was at times like these a blessing) and had a full, untainted view of the young skater. The crowd was still going wild. Marinette still hadn't really noticed. Instead, she blatantly continued to check him out, still trying to place his eye color to complete the picture that was, in essence, "Chat Noir".

That is, until said eyes were turned onto her. And though the embarrassment did eventually prick her consciousness, she took a full minute longer to continue to absentmindedly scrutinize him, searching, willing her own eyesight to bore into the shadows on his face. But it was to no avail; it was too dark. She blinked then, suddenly aware of what she had been doing. And now _he_ was moving toward _her_ , his gait so _languid_ it made the heat rise unbidden to her face.

So she did was she always did in situations like this: _run_.

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The cheering had died down, and Adrien was taking his breaths in steadying gasps. He didn't do this for the glory of it, but to say he didn't enjoy the thrill the love of an audience brought would be a blatant lie. A smile escaped before it turned into a grin. With a short wave, he kicked his board up to his hand and headed back into the crowd. He glanced around and was about to disappear into the night when he saw her: blue eyes peeking through the wrappings of a chiffon red scarf with black polka dots.

She was staring straight _into_ him and Adrien felt exposed just looking in her direction. The sensation should have been disarming…but he only felt strangely emboldened. He wondered if this is what real attraction felt like, a pull that didn't sate.

Though he was done with the skate run, and the attention of the throng of people had switched to the next player, he felt the butterflies fly back into his stomach. Other than her scarf, the first thing Adrien noticed about the girl was her bright red roller blades. They were normal by any account, if one didn't know any better. But Adrien _did_ know better: several wheels had been replaced, the body of the skates themselves were scuffed and chipped, and a few pieces of black duct tape trying futilely to hide a huge gash on one side. She _used_ them, and, judging from the state of them, knew _how_ to use them.

From the roller blades, Adrien followed the sight upwards, up thick black leggings with holes _everywhere_ , a fluffy red skirt that ended right above her knees and would have seemed out of place on anyone but her, a plain black shirt, and…and that scarf. Some blue-black hair escaped around the piercingly blue eyes that were still locked on his own, and Adrien breathed out a small laugh that had nothing to do with finding her funny, but everything to do with him finding the ensemble – and the _girl_ – anything _but_ humorous; he was totally caught by surprise.

She looked like a super-powered ladybug.

She was beautiful.

Her eyes widened for a moment when he started make his way toward her, and then she was gone.

And Adrien took off after her.

The ladybug girl was small, and she was definitely using her height to her advantage. That, paired with her obvious ability on her blades, made it difficult for Adrien to make any headway through the growing crowd toward her; for every person he passed, she was already two or three ahead of him. By the time he finally pushed his way through, he had nearly lost sight of her.

His eyes chased after the girl faster than his body had been able to; at the edge of the nearest building he spotted the last fluttering of the chiffon fabric of a scarf as it floated passed the corner. He sighed, then yelped when a hand slammed on his shoulder.

Adrien whipped around, coming face-to-face with Jules.

"Names Ladybug," he said shortly, flicking his eyes to the girl.

 _Fitting_ , thought Adrien.

"And if you hurt her…" Jules smiled broadly, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of threatening. "You answer to all of us."

Adrien could only stare widely and nod. Jules slapped his shoulder again, still smiling, and now his eyes shown with mirth. He pointed a finger in the opposite direction she had gone.

"Cut through that building and you'll cut her off. Good luck."

Adrien grinned before Jules pushed him on his way, turning back to rouse the crowd up once again.

 _Hurt her?_ Adrien mused to himself while dashing as fast as he could through the abandoned building, hoping that Jules hadn't sent him astray. _Why would I hurt her? If anything, I'd_ really _like to –_

He leapt through the broken doorway…

…and nearly smashed her to the ground.

Somewhere in his mind, Adrien wondered if this counted as "hurting her" as well. He hoped not.

Though Adrien had obviously surprised her when suddenly appearing in her path, Ladybug caught his forearms, stopping his fall, before sidestepping him easily. She circled him in a wide circle, her blades creating low rumbles in the quiet. Sure, he may have surprised _her,_ but she sure seemed to recover quickly.

Inhaling and then exhaling slowly, Adrien kicked up his board, recognizing the feeling of being sized-up: it was, really, a feeling he was all-too familiar with.

"Like what you see?" he asked cheekily, a grin pulling on his features. He leaned over, resting a hand on his vertical board, leaning into the structure while he struck something of a model pose.

(Sometimes those photoshoots came in handy. Like when trying to catch ladybugs, for example.)

A scoffing laugh puffed out in one breath as the girl finished her second circle. Adrien used every training exercise he could remember to hold his pose, not to betray a blush or anything else as he waited impatiently for any other answer.

"Maybe," she finally conceded. She flicked her eyes to his face for just a moment before starting to skate backward away from him. "It depends."

Adrien dropped his board, hopping one foot onto it and immediately kicking off after her. Her hips swayed back and forth to propel her back at a quicker pace. Adrien tried to ignore it, really. Honestly.

"Depends on what, Ladybug?" he asked, trying not to sound as suddenly breathless as he really felt. Her eyes seemed to shine in the little moonlight they had. She was so small, he felt almost protective just at the sight of her; but something in her demeanor told him quite clearly that not only would she not want protection, but, really, she didn't _need_ it.

She smiled wryly at him and Adrien's heart beat a little faster, and it had nothing to do with their increase of speed.

"Depends if you can keep up, Chat Noir."

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The new student's arrival at the school today had caused something of a stir among the crowd of students. Why someone would transfer their kid halfway through the last year of _lyc_ _ée_ was a mystery to Marinette. It seemed cruel, but her fellow classmates didn't seem to mind. Apparently the boy was something of a prize to his father, a model and heir to aristocracy. Even Alya had tried to show Marinette all the stats she had found on him while researching on her phone. Her best friend had planned her route to intercept him for an interview for the school blog. Marinette had only rolled her eyes.

For her, it seemed like they had another Chloé to deal with, and even _one_ of those was _one_ too many.

Marinette stood up from her locker, the throng of people passing by lost on her as she took a deep breath, happier than usual that it was the end of the day. There was a sudden chattering to her side, and Marinette peeked around her shoulder to see perfectly-styled blond hair pop through the door to the locker area surrounded by a number of giggling girls. Suppressing another eyeroll, Marinette turned her attention back to her locker. She started to reapply the lipstick she carried with her everywhere. There was a collective groan as the group came – she irritatingly discovered – ever closer to her position. The new boy seemed to have done something they didn't approve of. Curiosity got the best of Marinette. She turned her head toward the sound.

And had a clear view of the boy in question.

Marinette inhaled sharply, a blush stealing across her cheeks. His features _were_ _beautiful_ , and though she still didn't know the color of his eyes, she recognized the intensity of his features, knew the long and lean form of _him_. It was hard to forget someone that not only could keep up with you while racing through the streets of Paris, but had actually sought you out in the first place. Marinette felt a lump form in her throat, bulging against her suddenly rapid pulse. Everything he did, every move he made, was absolutely _stirring_ ; as he pulled out his earphones and stuck the buds into their proper place, Marinette could only stare. He walked passed her then and she was thankful – in more ways than one – for the double take when he met her eyes.

Green. His eyes were green.

There was a moment – or two…maybe three – where they could only stare at each other. Marinette felt completely underdressed as she looked at him. Suddenly the _Gabriel_ shirt made sense. Her cheeks reheated, but neither one could still make a sound. Finally, as if her eyes had won out in mentally begging him to say or do _something_ , he pulled out his earphones before ducking down low to her. One hand wound on the top of her locker door and he leaned in close.

There were eyes on them, they knew, and they kept their voices dangerously low.

"Ladybug?" he whispered out, searching her eyes almost wildly. The intensity there sent Marinette's mind into something akin of a nuclear meltdown. Forcing herself to settle, the final reassurance of his identity secure, she pushed out her reply with faux-confidence and a shy smile.

"Chat Noir."

It wasn't a question. She knew who he was.

He grinned widely at her, pulling back, but only slightly. While Marinette was grateful to be able to hopefully get her breathing back under control, she already missed his close proximity. More than she would even like to admit to herself. So when he changed position and instead leaned a shoulder on the closed locker next to her, a casual smile on his face but a betraying hand rubbing nervously at his neck, Marinette was not only suddenly sent into a flutter of spirits, but her mind seemed to go on a hiatus from any type of normal brain function. Instead, her body's response was to think she obviously needed to blush even more.

She was glad, then, to see a bit of pink on his cheeks too.

He was a _lot_ taller when she didn't have her blades on.

"Uh, Adrien, actually." He cleared his throat. "Adrien Agreste."

His reply came as kind of a shock to them both, startling them both from their separate reveries. Marinette blinked once before realizing that he was telling her his real name. She hoped she could at least return the favor, though she wasn't sure if she could trust her mouth at the moment.

"M-Marinette. Dupain-Cheng." _Curses!_ Well, it could have gone worse. Adrien's smile turned almost giddy.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," he repeated. Marinette almost swooned at hearing her name on his lips. He leaned forward toward her again suddenly, biting his lip. Biting his lip _nervously_ , she realized. Somehow knowing that, for whatever reason she couldn't figure out, she made _him_ nervous, set her mind at ease a bit.

"Well, _Mademoiselle_ Marinette Dupain-Cheng," he whispered finally, flicking his eyes around for a second before settling onto hers again, freezing her in place. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Marinette could hardly breathe.

"Yes, _Monsieur_ Adrien Agreste. Yes, I do."

His face lit up, and Marinette giggled a little at his reaction. She hurriedly emptied her books back into her locker. Before she could shut it, though, Adrien put a hand on the door.

"Wait," he said, looking into her locker at the floor. A bright pink bag laid open there, its contents only partially on display to the viewers. "What are those?"

Marinette could only smile widely before hurrying to zip the bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

"I'll show you."

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Adrien could not help the blush that he was absolutely certain was going to turn into a permanent fixture on his face. Everything – all the forces in the universe – were against him, and he really only had himself to blame for his current predicament. _How_ did he get here? _How_ was he here, wearing roller _skates,_ of all things, at a roller _rink_ , of all places?

The pressure tugging both hands to help propel Adrien forward snapped his attention away from his betraying feet and back up to the glowing face and bright blue eyes of the girl in front of him. She held both his hands, skating backward, pulling him with her in more ways than one. When she swayed back and forth, just like she had their first night together, he felt himself trying to move with her, not to match her movements but to complement them. Her giggling features brought a smile to his face and, not for the first time, Adrien felt equal parts utterly fearless and hopelessly terrified.

 _This_ was how he got to this point, to this place. _She_ was why he was here.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, his Ladybug, wearing bright pink roller derby skates, hips yo-yoing from side to side in fluid movements, and gripping his hands to graciously keep him from faceplanting. When he tripped slightly, _again_ , Marinette reached quickly down to grip his elbow. She laughed again. And though he was mortified, Adrien, shaking his head, couldn't help smiling in return.

"This is so not cool," Adrien spoke, only daring to flick his eyes back to her for a moment before returning his gaze to uncooperative feet.

" _This_ is _very_ cool," she playfully chided, giggling again. "Maybe you're just not _cool_ enough to appreciate the awesomeness."

"Or I'm just not cool enough to actually _participate_ in the awesomeness."

"You said it, not me."

"Hey! This is harder than it looks!"

"Hmm…" she had that face again, that _scrutinizing_ gaze. Suddenly her hands were freed from him, and Adrien suddenly felt like a rowboat in a raging river; he was going to crash or capsize any moment.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he protested, arm splayed wide to keep himself aloft. "Don't you dare leave me here!"

Marinette laughed again. "Hold tight, _minou_." And with that, she skated deftly away, leaving Adrien unsteady in more ways than one.

"To _what_?" was his snarky reply to himself. His eyes darted every way, looking, mentally _grasping_ for any type of hand hold, figuratively or literally. He really, _really_ tried not to fall into splits. Again.

A moment later, Marinette appeared in front of him again, all ease on her skates. He scowled at her, angry at her previous abandonment. A smile stretched across her face as she circled around him again…and again. Adrien sighed.

"Would you knock it off and help me already."

She laughed again. "Patience, _chaton_."

"Are you always going to use cat petnames?"

"Probably. Do you have any you prefer above the others."

"'Handsome Boy' is a favorite."

Adrien grinned at the redness in her cheeks.

"Hm, I don't believe I ever used that one."

"Pity. You should, _Bugaboo_."

She circled around him as a modern, upbeat song started, playing louder than the duller music before had been.

"'Aight, Ladies and Gents!" a male voice called over the speakers. The lights turned off and the blacklights flickered to life, illuminating the once-hidden paints of green, pink, and yellow on the rink floors and walls. "We've had a special request to get this after-dark party started early!" There was a cheer around the rink, and Adrien looked at Marinette. Or, tried to, but she had disappeared again. He grimaced, arms tiring quickly from being stretched out for so long in an attempt to keep himself balanced. Suddenly there were hands on his waist. He only had time to register the feeling before he was being propelled forward, shaky legs trying to keep up with the momentum.

"Is this alright?" came Marinette's voice from behind him.

"Yeah, this is gre-fine," he coughed. "This is just fine. Fine. Just fine…yeah."

"Good."

 _Oh my laws, this is_ not _okay!_ Adrien thought to himself, sure that he was about to have a heart attack from her hands on his waist. After a moment, though, Adrien found he was able to move around without as much shakiness as before. From forcing him to move forward, she had eliminated his trepidation and compelled him to balance on his own. While he was thus concentrating on his own movements, he glanced up at the sudden appearance of a figure in front of him, skating backward.

"Wait…"

" _No,_ " Marinette replied firmly to the unasked question. "Don't think about it, just keep going."

Adrien, suddenly feeling the sting of fear pricking his skin again, looked down at his skates. Immediately, a hand was on his chin, pulling his face back to the girl in front of him.

"What did I tell you!? Don't look at your skates! Look forward." She cleared her throat, and Adrien felt a little relieved that she was at least a _little_ nervous about all of _this_.

"Just throwing this out there, and don't get me wrong, this is fun and everything…" Adrien continued to tentatively take strides, Marinette grabbing his arm every once in a while to steady him. "But I have this feeling that you're enjoying this _way_ more than me."

"Oh, I _know_ I'm enjoying this way more than you."

At this sassy tone, Adrien looked up into her face. The song switched then, and Adrien recognized another song that he had on his own ipod.

"I like this song."

"I thought you would."

"What, did you pick it or something?"

Marinette grinned. "This is my playlist."

"What…?"

"I have an in with the DJ," she explained. "This is my personal playlist. I asked him to play it for us – _me,_ play it for me." She blushed again. Adrien could only stare after her in wonder. Before he could even respond decently, she had him by the hands. His skin crawled in _every good way_ as she laced her fingers through his own.

"Dance with me!" she said happily.

"I – _what!?_ I can barely _move_ in these things!" he protested wildly, trying to work his way to the edge and be done with this mess. Marinette had him trapped, however. He had no control in any part of this situation. He sighed. "Marinette, how am I supposed to – ! Oh…"

Adrien gulped as Marinette took his hands and placed them gingerly on her waist. She put her own on top to keep them both steady.

"Just don't let go," she whispered up at him.

Adrien fleetingly thought that it was a ridiculous thing to say.

 _Why on Earth would I ever let you go?_

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The wind whipped through her loose hair as Marinette deftly swerved and dodge through the masses on the crowded sidewalk. It was a thrilling challenge, weaving carefully but swiftly in and out of the throngs of people, a secret indulgence of hers that she could only escape into rarely. The moonlight shone overhead, and her music pulsed through her ears, a steady trickle of tantalizing lyrics and beats to keep her focused on what she was doing, and not distract her with anything else.

It was almost working.

Except that her secret was about to be discovered.

Suddenly there was another player in her real-life video game. Adrien – Chat Noir – was there by her side again, matching her stride for stride. The harsh pounding in her ears drove her to speed up, exacerbating a sudden desire to show off; but before she could, she felt a pull on her hand. When Marinette turned to look back at Player 2, he held out to her something of a game changer: one of his earbuds. Music spoke so many languages, broke so many barriers, and each carefully selected playlist was as personal as fingerprints for each person. To share this was like trusting someone with a piece of yourself. Marinette spun around him once before reaching for the tiny speaker, simultaneously pulling out her own gadget in her ears.

But Adrien pulled his hand away for a moment so she couldn't catch it. Pausing, he leaned down and, pulling her hair back gently, and put the earbud in her ear himself. He took such meticulous care, and Marinette couldn't repress the shiver that passed through her when his fingers lightly brushed against her skin. An expression on his face floated between nervousness and excitement. Marinette was finding more and more how those two emotions seemed to go hand-in-hand. He took one last look into her eyes, dropped his skateboard, and started off at a leisurely pace so as not to pull out either one of their earbuds.

It was a good thing his fingers were intertwined with hers, pulling her behind him. Otherwise she might have still been frozen in place.

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"Are you sure about this?"

Marinette's voice came out in a nervous, strangled sound. Adrien chuckled lightly.

"If I remember right, this was _your_ idea."

"You led me here."

To this, Adrien shrugged in silent acquiescence. There were only so many places in Paris at night where he felt like he could take off his mask and be himself. And even fewer places that allowed skateboards. So they had arrived here, at the makeshift skatepark where they had sort of met.

" _Here_ , maybe," he gestured widely. "But not _here_." Adrien pointed down to the half pipe. She looked up at him again, and Adrien gently stroked her arm, letting her know that he was there. That he would always be there.

They were on a precipice, both physically and metaphorically, and Adrien was ready to dive down deep.

He watched Marinette eye the half-pipe again warily. He had demonstrated how to carefully drop in and come up the other side, then back again, but Marinette did not seem wholly convinced of her own abilities. Adrien silently found this rather humorous; Ladybug, roller derby girl, secret extreme sports enthusiast, was afraid of a half pipe. Granted, she wasn't a skater, per se, though he had to admit that she had picked up on the skill almost _annoyingly_ quickly.

Cautiously, Adrien pulled his hand away from her arm to run his fingers through her hair, gently palming her face. When she turned to look at him, he tried to give her his most reassuring smile.

"You don't have to do this, Mari," he said quietly.

Something must have worked; she didn't respond vocally, but a smirk pulled her lips. The sight warmed up his whole body. Without warning, he felt a pressure on his shoulders, a gripping at the fabric there. Marinette pulled him down a little harshly before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. _Almost_ chaste. She lingered there for a moment, the soft skin of her cheek brushing against his own.

There was heat there, between them. Adrien was breathing it in, motionless on the outside but buzzing with activity on the inside. When the hold on his shoulders released and she started to back up, it took everything Adrien had not to pull Marinette back into him. The fierceness he had come to love entered her bluebell eyes as she tore her eyes away from his own and looked out at her new challenge. His heart hammered against his chest. He took a step back to let her do this on her own, and she dropped down the ramp.

Down, then up – perfect – then back down, and back up –

He realized, but could do nothing, that she didn't quite have the momentum to make it back up to him and she stumbled down back into the half-pipe. Adrien jumped in after her, sliding down on his knees before getting up and hurrying over to her slightly crumpled form. She twisted awkwardly and sat up. Adrien saw the scuffs on her knees and watched her eyes grow misty as she rubbed the palms of her hands together. Sure, the girl might be used to scrapes and bruises, but it didn't make it hurt less. Adrien knew that from experience. He pulled himself up next to her, taking her hands in his and looking at them. They were so close now, breathing deeply from the adrenaline rush following her spill. Her eyes leaked one tear and she tried to blink the rest away.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry Marinette! I should have –"

"Adrien."

"No, I _shouldn't_ have let you –"

" _Adrien_."

Adrien paused at her tone. She sniffled slightly.

"Adrien," she spoke again, softer this time. "I'm fine. Really."

"Oh, good…'cause I'm not."

She looked at him, wide blue eyes boring into his own.

She was a net, and he was caught, snared completely. And in that moment, he realized she had captured him a long time ago; and he would let her do it to him over and over again. In fact, he was looking forward to it.

Looking back down at her hands, Adrien placed a soft kiss on one of her palms. She stiffened slightly under his touch, but he didn't look to her face. Instead, Adrien reached for the other hand and placed another kiss there, trying to replace the pain in her eyes in the only way he could remember how to.

"I don't ever want to hurt you again, Marinette."

He looked back at her then, and the fierceness was back in her eyes. She was pulling him in again, just like at the roller rink. Remembering her in that moment so vividly, he did as she had instructed him then and kept his eyes trained on her. Good thing, too; he was able to see when she started to leaned in to him, and he moved closer to her.

She sat almost cross-legged, body angled toward him. Adrien uncrossed his own legs and scooted himself closer, putting a leg on either side of her. He let go of her hands, deciding on better placements. One hand went back into her hair, cupping her head, a thumb removing the lone tear still on her cheek. His chest rose and fell heavily; her breath seemed to be just as labored. Tentatively, his free hand reached to wrap around her waist. She gasped slightly, but didn't back away. Her eyes closed when Adrien's did, and he felt her grab onto the front of his shirt lightly. Their noses touched, Adrien feeling her warm breath on his lips before he tried pulling _her_ toward _him.._.

She came willingly.

Their lips touched, uncertain and almost cautious at first. A smack sounded when their lips parted momentarily, and giggles escaped both of them. And then he pulled her in again, wanting more of her; she let him. The next kiss _was_ more; more meaningful, more expressive. They moved in sync, imperfect beings complementing each other perfectly.

Adrien pulled back for a moment, a slight gasp in his breathlessness, like surfacing from under the current of the ocean. It was thrilling.

Adrien looked at his blue-eyed companion, a fire dancing behind their playful expression.

Adrien closed his eyes and dove in again.

And he never wanted to resurface.

 ** _Fin!_**

[[ *Watches the Christmas season float by with all of the prompts.*

Heh… It's my birthday soon…and my plan is to just spent the whole day writing.

Merry Birthday. 8) ]]

[[ Guys…thanks for reading. *hearts* n.n ]]

[[ OKAY FUN FACT:

I was copying this on here and for some reason this was written like, waaaaaaay on the bottom of my page. Like some sort of forgotten prompt or something. Maybe I'll use it for that. Or you can. If you do, let me know! I wanna read it! :D

 _"I. Cannot. Handle you right now."_

 _"Trust me. The feeling is mutual." ]]_


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